


A Child of Mist and Tide

by Ekename



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alqualondë, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Character Growth, Doom of Mandos, Elf Culture & Customs, Eventual Romance, F/M, Falmarin POV, Finweans, First Age, First Age characters, First Kinslaying (Tolkien), Flight of the Noldor, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied Relationships, Minor Canonical Character(s), POV Female Character, POV First Person, Pining, Second Kinslaying | Sack of Doriath, Slow Burn, Suggestive Themes, Survivor Guilt, Third Kinslaying (Tolkien), Trauma, Unrealised love, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:15:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26852800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ekename/pseuds/Ekename
Summary: In the aftermath of the First Kinslaying, it is only one small elf-maiden from Alqualondë who intends to avenge her family, even if it means leaving the land she loves behind. What begins as a path to revenge soon becomes one elf's exhilic journey to the other side of the sea. A Falmarin account of the First Age, and a story of grief and compassion.
Relationships: Argon | Arakáno/Original Female Character(s), Voronwë (Tolkien)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting ever, and the tags make me feel like a dunce but let's goooo
> 
> (Welcome to my first ever fic on Ao3, I guess)

Here begins an account:

_In the House of Lanwë there was a mariner called Ramis, and his wife was called Phardîs. Phardîs bore Ramis five children: Ramros, Ramlun, Ramdîs, Ramwing, and Ramwind. They dwelt in Alqualondë._

_Ramis was a ship lord, and his sons were much the same. Phardîs had come from the Noldor, though her own father had been Telerin. They considered themselves a Telerin household; and yet they kept close ties with their Noldorin kindred. Indeed Ramdîs their daughter also sought to marry into the Noldor._

_But Ramwing their youngest daughter loved_ _Alqualondë with all her heart, and harboured a desire to someday take the long voyage across the great sea._

**(PROLOGUE)**

She was grey, like mist. Indeed she was so mist-like that that nobody seemed to notice her at first. She wore the fine blue-grey raiment of all the Falathrim, but next to Círdan she was not so tall, not so piercing. It was only because his mother had begun to speak to Círdan of things they did not understand that Elrond began to shift. Beside him, Elros fidgeted. Círdan did not notice, but the lady did; and she smiled at them.

Elrond stared. Her visage was suddenly alive. Her smile reached her eyes. They were a misty, grey hue that still somehow had a fiery starlike light about them.

(Later, when he was a little older, Elrond knew what that light meant, and that it was known as having the light 'of the Trees,' something he dearly wished he would get to see someday).

'If you are courteous to her, Ramwing will tell you a story,' said Círdan, suddenly, to both Elrond and Elros. Elros was immediately skeptical. He did not want to be courteous, or to hear a story. He wanted to _play._

The lady, called Ramwing, seemed to sense this, and she said, 'If your mother permits it, we might also dive off the free dock.' Elros immediately brightened. Elrond, young as he was, realised that the lady spoke Sindarin in a way he did not recognise. It was different from even Círdan's strange Falathrim accent.

'We do not want to trouble you, lady,' said Elrond's mother.

‘They do not trouble me,' said Ramwing. She held out two hands. Elrond and his brother immediately took them. She bowed to their mother, and began to lead them to the water.

'I thank you,' Elrond heard his mother say to Círdan. 'I know they may be young, but--but I know not how else to tell them. How to begin to tell them.'

'It is the lady you should thank,' answered Círdan. 'Or perhaps your sons. Before we arrived, before she set her own eyes on them, she meant to refuse you.'

Ramwing took them as promised to a stretch of the harbour that dipped into the land of the havens enough for the waters to be good for swimming.

Elrond and Elros were amazed when she removed her outer raiment, uncovering her hair and clad only in a fine suit appropriate for the water. Her hair was a strange, wispy colour, like the light hitting fine threads, but it was braided and held back by three silver clasps. Elrond noticed at once that she wore mismatched earrings. On one side there was a silver semi-hoop, one end of which was a white pearl and the other of which was black. On the other side was a single leaf--or was it a feather? Elrond wondered.

They were even more amazed when she showed them how to dive, her form so graceful that there was hardly a sound as she entered the water.

Elrond and his brother watched, waiting for her to surface. Elrond felt the beginnings of concern when her head, now silvery from the water, popped out like a laughing fish. She looked a hundred times younger, and many more times whole.

'Ah! It is deep,' said the lady. Her laugh was soft against the waves and the cry of the gulls but there was something delightful about it. 'But all the better. There is no fear of you elflings hitting anything.'

Elrond and Elros grinned at one another, and did not hesitate to dive in after her, however ungraceful they were.

She spent the afternoon with them, even teaching them how to fish with a spear, and when the sun began to sink they settled upon a spread cloth on the shore and waited for their mother. Ramwing was quiet, and she was not like other adult elves who felt the need to entertain him and his brother with words at every moment, Elrond observed. She let Elros talk excitedly about whatever he wished, freely answering any questions he had about diving or fishing. Then Elrond said, 'How do you know all this?'

'She's from Balar,' Elros said impatiently. 'Everyone there knows how to dive.'

'Not so,' said Ramwing, smiling. 'I am not from Balar. Most of us who live there now are not _from_ there. We are from different places, as you and your father and mother are.' She paused, the smile fading slightly. 'And I do not believe everyone there knows how to dive.'

'Then where are you from?' asked Elrond. 'Are you--are you like Círdan?'

'Ah,' she said gravely. 'It depends what you mean by "like." We are both of the Third Kindred, certainly. I even call him kinsman from afar.'

'You're kin?' Elros said with awe.

'From afar. But Círdan is from Falas, a place now gone. I am from somewhere much further away.' She fell silent, and even Elros sensed that something pained her. 'I am from Alqualondë,' she said sadly.

'Where is that?'

She looked straight at the horizon as though she could see something beyond the sea and sky. 'Far, far away from here.’

'Did you sail here?' asked Elros. 'Are you a good sailor? Our father is a mariner, he is really good at it.'

Ramwing did not answer, contemplating some secret thing. Then she suddenly smiled at them and said, 'I, too, had a twin brother. He could dive from the prow of a ship and emerge with a pearl-oyster in each hand.'

She did not answer the question, Elrond thought, dismayed. But her mist-grey eyes looked at him searchingly.

'I will tell you all, if you do me the kindness of listening,' she said. 'We still have some time before your _naneth_ and _adar_ return, and I must be back to Balar with Círdan. Would you like to hear what I will say?'

Elrond and his brother nodded yes.

Ramwing smiled again. 'I was born in Alqualondë...'


	2. I: Of Rámavingë part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of Rámavingë's life in Alqualondë... and some happenings in Tirion.

✧

I was born in Alqualondë. So I say, but perhaps it is truer to say that I was born on a ship on the Belegaer, the Great Sea--though we knew it there and then as Alatairë.

My father was a ship-lord, the son of Rámalanwë, the son of Lanwendë in the House of Lanwë, which was a minor branch of the house of our king, Olwë. Lanwendë had followed Olwë to Valinor, and dwelt for a time in Tol Eressëa. When the lord Ossë taught the Teleri the art of ship-making that they might reach the shores of Valinor, Lanwendë was among his foremost students, and was on the ships that were pulled by swans to Valinor. Her son Rámalanwë earned all her knowledge and grew up to be a lord of Alqualondë, where our people had settled at last.

My father, when he had grown, surpassed his father in the art of ship-building. My grandfather saw that his son had surpassed him and was satisfied, and he was amicably retired to the court of Olwë, where he served as a steward. Our foremother Lanwendë was considered kin to Olwë, so she had been there from the beginning, and she had helped to raise Olwë’s children.

So you see I came from a line of what could be described as noble servants. But we of the Third Kindred in Aman, we the Falmari, we were not caught up by status and ceremony. My father certainly cared not for a courtly life, and set up his house near the sea. He only cared for the building and sailing of ships, and only cared to be known as a ship-lord and nothing more. So my father, though he was named Rámamístë, was known by the name of Círyatur.

My mother had come from the Noldor. Her own father was ‘Telerin,’ as the Noldor called us, though we thought of ourselves as Falmari. But my mother had grown up in the Noldor city of Tirion, and had been known there as Celumë. The Noldor liked status and ceremony. They were gifted at the making of things, and they were generous with whatever they held, but they were very proud.

Still there was deep friendship between our people, and so my father did not hesitate to take my mother to wife. Besides, my mother had the quiet, flowing nature of a stream. She was proud, but not overbearing, and it did not surprise many that she bore a love for my father deep enough to remove her to Alqualondë. She did not quite share his love for sailing, however; and she kept his house at shore, and was known in Alqualondë as Fáranís.

Fáranís my mother gave Círyatur my father five children. My father’s names for us were all fashioned after his own father-name, which brought to mind the swan-ships he so loved, the sparkling waters and the blues and greys of the sea. My eldest brother was Rámarossë, my next brother Rámaluinë. My sister he called Rámanís. My brother and I were twins born aboard a ship one at a time, under clear skies and over foaming waters; between us he bestowed out the names of Rámavingë, for me, and Rámavindë for my brother.

But my siblings were better known in Alqualondë by their mother-names. My eldest brother she called Vëantur, for he was strong and full of life. He was both like and unlike our father, a great lord of ships but with a bearing that reminded our mother of Noldorin fire. My second brother was gentler, with thoughts that ran deep, much like our mother; so she called him Fárantur. He was more interested in the building of vessels than he was in the sailing of them and he was also, among us, the most devoted to the Valar.

My sister was her first daughter, and my mother took to following a Noldorin fashion in naming her after a precious jewel. But my sister was a beauty in the Falmarin way, in that the greyness of her eyes ran silver and the sheen of her hair was more akin to the luminous glow of pearls. So she was named Marillissë. My sister was special in that she was known by this name but was more often addressed as Rámanís. It was only later during her rising fame in Tirion that she was more often called Marillissë.

As for my twin brother and myself, we were called the _Rámavinya_ as a pair. Since our father-names matched, those were the names we were often called by. But another reason had to do with the story of our birth and our mother’s naming, which went like this:

Though I was born first, my mother immediately named my brother. She called him Alquatur, feeling sure that his fate was tied to Alqualondë, and that he would be as fine a lord of the ships as her other sons. In most ways she was right, but among family he was still called Rámavindë.

Then my mother looked at me. She meant to name me _Alquamírre_ , as another precious jewel of a daughter. But when she looked at me she suddenly felt unsure. She hesitated long enough that the weather changed, and a fine mist covered the ship in a veil of grey. She was unsure of what her senses were telling her, and so she called me ‘Hísiníë,’ for the mist.

But the name sounded too similar to tears to me, and I was never known by my mother-name for as long as I lived in Alqualondë.

Together with my twin brother, we were known as the Rámavinya, because we went by our father-names and because we were his youngest and latest-come children. Rámavindë was easily the quieter child, deep-thinking like our second brother Fárantur and almost stoic, like our father.

I was more like Vëantur and Rámanís, outspoken and capable of rising up suddenly like a wave. But I was not at all like my eldest brother and sister in that I did not care about what happened in Tirion, and I hardly knew our Noldorin relatives.

As elflings it was difficult to tell us twins apart just by appearances. We both had wispy, feathery hair that only darkened when wet. We both had grey eyes, but it was a soft grey that sometimes reflected the greenish hue of the sea or the silvery light of Telperion. We both ran freely through Alqualondë, sometimes with our cousins and our friends, sometimes just the two of us, our world defined by the harbour, the shipyard, the sea.

We competed at everything, my brother and I: running, climbing, swimming, sailing. I was the better spear-fisher, he the better pearl diver. In childhood he was the better rope-weaver, and I the better sailor. But as we grew we were more or less matched, though we both had our shortcomings. My brother did not take to the sailing of our great ships as most elves did, and I did not care for sail-weaving as a Falmarin elf-maiden ought to. 

There was one thing I never told even my brother, though I think he knew how I felt. Often when I looked out at the Belegaer, the great sea that stretched out before us, a thought would come to me unbidden: _someday I shall sail across this_.

✧

Our sister Rámanís went often to Tirion to stay with our Noldorin relatives. She had a taste for the great city and for a more courtly life. She was not known as a 'pearl of Alqualondë' for nothing, for she had a fair singing voice and could also play the flute elegantly. Naturally, she was an excellent sail-weaver.

She was popular with our Noldorin cousins and their friends. She did not perhaps have the shining beauty of the Noldor, but Marillissë was known in Tirion as a maiden of ‘luminous allure,’ and we heard this compliment often.

As for me, I thought that the Noldor liked to complicate simple words to say what they meant.

My sister also had the patronage of Lady Eärwendë, a daughter of our king Olwë who had married a Noldorin prince. Lady Eärwendë had known the care of our foremother Lanwendë, and considered her kin besides. As her descendant Olwë’s daughter therefore looked kindly on my sister, calling her cousin. Rámanís was thrilled, because it put her in the path of more than a few noble Noldorin lords, including Lady Eärwendë's own sons.

I thought she reached rather too high. However kind Lady Eärwendë was, she was still our king’s daughter, and her husband was the youngest son of the Noldor king. Their children were all great and noble princes. We were only fair-voiced daughters of a ship-lord, and our industry was the weaving of ropes and sails—not jewels and finery.

But these things I did not care to ponder over much. It was only that close to the time that my brother Rámavindë and I came of age, our sister suddenly had many ideas about our being in Tirion with her for a season.

I did not share my sister's tastes. The few times that we had gone there to the shining citadel, my brother and I accompanying our sister to meet our mother’s relatives, I had been expected to attend to a great number of things that did not interest me. I did not know the difference between one fine dress to another and I certainly did not care how many jewels I could wear at a time.

But what I liked least of all was how quickly I had been sized up and assessed by my Noldorin cousins and their friends. They thought me childish and pitied that I was not such a beauty as my sister.

Perhaps it was in protest that I chose to wear my sea-spray gown and raw pearls at court with pride. It drove Rámanís to despair.

'If only you thought about shape and colour a little more!' Rámanís was saying, as she tightened a sash about my waist. 'Appearances are easy enough to alter, Vinya.'

'What is the point?' I complained. 'To what end? How could I swim in such a constricting garment?'

But my sister did not relent, thinking perhaps that I would be cured of my unladylike ways by being forced to sit in the company of many Noldorin ladies, though all I did was think on my brother with envy. He had been taken hunting, which was ridiculous when I was certainly the better archer.

I sighed, mourning all the tides I was missing. All I really longed for was the sea. I did not understand how my sister could spend such long periods away from Alqualondë.

'It is a banquet hosted by Lady Eärwendë herself,' Rámanís said sharply.

'Then it is a good thing I know how to hold my breath!' I snapped. Her response was to stick my scalp with a jewelled pin. She had given up on the pinning up of my hair, because it was wispy beyond hope. Unlike her hair, which hung down in long black tresses with a silvery sheen, mine seemed to be made of loose thin strands that never agreed with one another about which direction to face.

Moreover the colour of my hair had always been odd, given all my time in the sea-air; it was the same faded sort of dark colour my father had, rather grey, even brown in some lights.

In short I was no classical Falmarin beauty, as Lady Eärwendë was and my sister so successfully embodied.

It is a lost cause, I thought mulishly, as my sister ran oiled fingers through what could not even be called locks.

But Rámanís was suddenly delighted. 'Oh, I am genius,' she said, beaming. She stuck her head out the door. 'Rámavindë! Come and see your sister.'

My brother, good-natured as he was, obeyed. At once he got that carefully innocent look on his face that told me he was restraining himself from making some pert comment.

'I could still drop you into a fountain,' I threatened at once, defensive. But then I was taken aback at my reflection, because I did not look like a plain Telerin maiden overly made up in Noldorin fashion, as I had feared. My gown was perhaps less simple than I would have liked, but my sister had trimmed it back to something that hung elegantly even on a frame such as mine. And my hair had been allowed to hang loose, save for a single pearled pin that reframed my face, and hung down in gentle waves, coaxed by the oil.

'Where I go, so shall you,' my brother was retorting. 'Shall we swim then?'

'No fountains! No swimming!' Rámanís looked like she would have reached out to shake me if it would not ruin her handiwork. 'Now you, Vinyo, stand here…'

'What? Why?'

'Because you cannot attend a ball in the same suit you used to go hunting in!'

My glee at his misfortune quickly faded, for my sister then began to quiz us on all the names of the Noldorin royal house. I was incredulous that she was demanding this of us, because I barely knew the exact names of our own King Olwë's kin.

But Rámanís seemed to think that knowing all the names of the descendants of Finwë was somehow to my benefit. I cared not. All I knew was that Finwë was the king of the Noldor as Olwë was the king of the Falmari, and that Finwë had three sons.

'Nolofinwë,' my sister prompted.

'The second son of High King Finwë,' I managed. 'His son is lord Findekáno.'

'And? Who is his lady wife? And his other children? He has three more, and a granddaughter besides.'

'How would I know!'

'Lord Arakáno is his youngest son,' Rámavindë supplied, from the inside of a soft-sheened shirt my sister was making him pull over his head.

'Yes, well done,' said Rámanís. 'How did you know?'

My brother's head popped out of the shirt. 'He is friends with Lord Aikanáro,' he explained, meaning one of the sons of Lady Eärwendë. 'He was on the hunt with us.'

'Truly? What was he like?' My sister had become excited.

'…He is good at hunting?'

My brother, for his naiveté, was at once stuck with a pearled brooch.

✧

Rámanís knew what she was doing, because when the time came and we went to the halls we were surrounded by splendour beyond what we could have imagined. It was suddenly a comfort to have endured all my sister's fussing, because it reassured me that I had nothing to be conscious about as we went to greet Lady Eärwendë. After all, my sister would not be seen with us if we were not fit to be seen.

'My heart warms at the sight of you, dear cousins,' said Lady Eärwendë. She complimented my sister, then us, then my sister again when it was known that she had a hand in our styling. She said the sight of pearls was both refreshing and nostalgic. My sister, of course, answered her with confidence.

I was dumbstruck. I have mentioned that Eärwendë was very much a beauty of the Falmarin kind, but standing before her then I thought her beauty went beyond even that. Everything about her, from the cast of her skin to the richness of her hair and the light of her eyes, was the silvery sheen that we so prized in Alqualondë. Indeed in her maiden days she had been the 'Swan-maiden of Alqualondë,' a name that perhaps did not convey the height of the compliment to outsiders. But even now, as a consort princess, she had more grace than anyone I had ever beheld. Even her voice was like clearest waters. 'How fares the Lady Uinen?'

She asked the question in Falmarin Quenya, which was not so incomprehensible to the Noldor, but different enough for a slight stir when used in a Noldorin house. And, more than anything, it was the quality of her voice that made her beauty peerless. We the Teleri were known for our singing voices, but for Lady Eärwendë, even in speaking she could stir all emotions.

'The lady favours us with kindness,' said my brother, which was the proper response. Uinen was the Maia who guided us with compassion through the waters, and all mariners revered her. She was our greatest intercessor. It was said that the daughters of Olwë, in their youth, swam with the Lady Uinen.

'I long to be close to her again soon,' I added without thinking. Beside me I felt Rámanís stiffen. Later of course I realised my mistake; it was simply rude of me to bring up how much I wanted to leave when our host was already being more gracious than was deserved by such distant relations as we were. Indeed some eyebrows went up around the chamber.

But Lady Eärwendë laughed. 'Be merry, cousins,' she said, 'for you will always find your way back there. For now I pray you to commune with us in joy.'

✧

The feast itself was uneventful. I was at all times either close to Rámanís or any one of our Noldorin cousins, who tittered at the way I had spoken to their lady. I paid them no heed, resolving to sit quietly for the rest of the banquet, lest Rámanís stick me with more than just a pin for any more insolence.

But the hours grew long, and so sometime later I wandered the halls in search of my brother. I saw him standing with a group of elves whom I recognized as the friends of Aikanáro, Lady Eärwendë's youngest son. Rámavindë had been lucky, because at the time that we were there Aikanáro happened to be present, where his father and other siblings were abroad. So it was that my brother had been able to spend time in the company of Aikanáro's friends, sometimes even Aikanáro himself. Given the difference in our statuses and distance of the relation, it was an abundance of kindness for Lady Eärwendë and her children to even call us 'cousins.' Everybody knew this.

I frowned as I drew near. Aikanáro himself was not present, but there were half a dozen ner-elves laughing at something, and my brother seemed uncomfortable. My unease quickly turned into indignation when I thought that they were belittling him. Tall and proud elves they were, dressed in finery and with lordly, almost haughty bearings--very Noldorin. 

It appeared twice as damning to my mind because my brother standing there was already distinct in appearance from them, being Falmarin--but he was also much younger than any of them.

At any rate I could tell from his expression that Rámavindë did not like what one of them had said, but he was too polite to say anything back.

Thus, without announcing my presence I went over, and bluntly declared, 'I would like to speak with my brother.'

There was an amused pause. 'By all means,' answered one of the elves. I sensed at once that I was putting Rámavindë in an even worse position, because he shifted slightly with embarrassment. I deduced at this point that whatever had made him uncomfortable had probably been about our sister, and my annoyance increased.

'Will you excuse us?' I asked, not tempering my impatience.

'Why so solemn, sweet one?' another elf asked. 'Surely nothing should come in the way of your merriment for the evening.'

'Yes, rather that you join us,' said the first. 'Come, don't be shy. Tell your brother what you need to and have no fear of us.'

I was taken aback. I had seen and heard this type of speech, most often when it was directed at my sister. I had never been on its receiving end. Beside me, my brother had become even more guarded.

‘Will the young lady do us the honour of a song?’ asked another, in courteous tones. ‘Telerin voices are unmatched, after all.’

Sing? He wanted me to sing? I opened my mouth to refuse, but closed it again, unsure if by the rules of etiquette I could. I felt my ire rise. I hate the way commands could be phrased as requests. 

Several of them saw my expression and laughed.

‘Now, now, don’t be offended by this brute, he just lacks eloquence.’

‘Yes, he really meant it as a compliment.’

‘Your sister sings so fairly, I only wondered what delights you might add.’

My indignation boiled over at last. ‘We Falmari are not songbirds for you to command as you will!’

‘Vinya,’ Rámavindë said helplessly.

‘No! I am tired of them looking down on us all the time!’ I spoke low, quickly, and in Falmarin Quenya now. ‘Just because we aren’t as—as noble or refined—’ It was impossible mistake the agitation in my voice. The smiles on the elves’ faces faded slightly.

There was a small laugh, and when I looked up I saw that Aikanáro had returned. With him was another noble elf I did not recognise, but he he had the visage of a true Noldorin, with his long dark hair and piercing grey eyes. He too looked amused.

'It is your own faults, friends, for teasing a young Falmarin maiden in a way she does not understand,' said Aikanáro. 'My lord father nearly lost my lady mother's hand in this way.'

'And you have lost all your suits in this way,' said his companion, and all laughed. All, of course, but my brother and me. I clenched my fists, still ruffled. Aikanáro did not seem to notice, but his companion did, and he frowned.

'I do not want to hear that from you,' said Aikanáro. He smiled at me kindly and said, in Falmarin, 'Do not think too badly of them, little cousin.' It was lightly said, but I understood that I should not make a scene. It would shame my family.

'I will not,' I said, stiffly. 'But I will be glad to return to Alqualondë tomorrow.' My words were still a bit careless, and there was a brief pause before they all burst into light laughter--except for Aikanáro’s companion.

'Such honesty is a virtue,' he said, with the lightly mocking tone that I disliked the most. I stared at him. I could see that he sensed my wariness, and mildly disapproved of it in some way. ‘Why so wary, lady? You are among friends.’

I did not care. I was wary. I was aware that, just as my sister had her admirers, she also had less charitable attention. It had something to do with her popularity with the ner-elves, which did incite some jealousy. Also that she was Falmari made it easy to speak of her in double-edged ways. I had seen and heard how elves could at once compliment her and imply that she was being a flirt, and grasping beyond her reach besides, without ever once accusing her.

To my mind this was greatly the fault of male attention, and wished they would leave her alone. But I did not yet know how to explain myself with eloquence, and so I could only hold my tongue in mulish silence. Aikanáro’s companion raised an eyebrow at me.

‘You can’t claim to be her friend if she has yet to know who you are,’ Aikanáro pointed out. He smiled at me. ‘Forgive my cousin, lady. His words are sharp but they never intend to wound.’

His cousin bowed. It was noble-mannered without being overly courteous, but his tone was still droll. 'Your pardon. I am known as Arakáno.'

‘This is my sister Rámavingë,’ said my brother, when I would not budge. ‘Our mother calls her Hísiníë.’

‘It is a custom of the Falmari to introduce both father-name and mother-name at once,’ Aikanáro explained to the group, when some appeared puzzled.

‘What for?’ Arakáno asked. ‘Surely the name one wishes to be known by is enough.’

‘Both mother and father name their child,’ I muttered. ‘Why should they not be both acknowledged?’

I did not mean to sound so challenging, but his contempt was audible.

‘Then how do we know which name to call you by?’ Arakáno returned seriously.

I was fed up with his tone. ‘You beg for the privilege of knowing this.'

Then I suddenly realised who I was speaking with, and felt myself stiffen.

If Arakáno was a cousin of Aikanáro—then that made him a son of either Nolofinwë or Fëanáro! These were King Finwë’s sons, the princes of the Noldor!

Perhaps the Valar felt my small humiliation in that moment, because my rude answer only caused more laughter than censure.

‘I don’t believe anyone has ever spoken to you in this way in your whole life,’ said Aikanáro to Arakáno, in a tone that was oddly approving. ‘I hope you can forgive my little cousin; she is not an ill-meaning child.’

‘Surely the great Prince Arakáno would be magnanimous to the young lady,’ put in one of the other elves. To my surprise, there was a sudden defence mounted by all the others on my behalf. 

Arakáno’s gaze had become rather annoyed, but he merely waved a hand gruffly. More elves laughed, and others made their condescending apologies, for any discomfort they might have caused me earlier. Rámavindë accepted them with a smile, and it was I who was left feeling childish.

I knew that none of them meant harm, but I was tired of their ways. I wanted to go back to Alqualondë, where people did not speak in riddles and did not care if you spoke your mind.

I kept my eyes lowered for the rest of the banquet, ignoring everyone else. If anyone else looked at me, I never acknowledged it.

✧

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I try to make it clear enough in the text, but if anyone would like the names handy:
> 
> Quenya father-name (Sindarization) mother-name/courtesy name
> 
> Rámamístë (Ramis) Círyatur, married to Celumë (Phardîs) Fáranís
> 
> Rámarossë (Ramros) Vëantur, first son  
> Rámaluinë (Ramlun) Fárantur, second son  
> Rámanís (Ramdîs) Marillissë, eldest daughter  
> Rámavingë (Ramwing) Hísiníë, youngest daughter, twin  
> Rámavindë (Ramwind) Alquatur youngest son, twin


	3. I: Of Rámavingë part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More of Rámavingë, and her family in Alqualondë.

✧

It was fortunate that we were soon to depart Tirion, because once my sister Rámanís caught wind of what had transpired she spoke of nothing else. That I had held my own in the presence of a company of ner-elves, never mind the presence of my brother, and one that included two Noldorin princes, was a point that she was envious of.

Finally fed up, I said, ‘What’s there to be envious of? Our status is too low to be worthy of princes.’

‘Oh, Vinya, what has your mind misunderstood now?’ Rámanís shook her head at me. ‘Princes, for maidens of our status are to be admired, not held.’

‘What’s the point of that…’

‘The real quarry are those in their proximity!’

‘What quarry?’

‘Suitors, of course! Princes are surrounded by ner-elves of quality.’

I was convinced. My sister had been induced to madness, and only the Valar could reprieve her. I started making plans to consult our brother Fárantur on how best to petition Lord Irmo, Vala of dreams and visions. Perhaps he would cure her.

Rámanís poked me on the forehead. ‘Don’t think I know not what you are thinking,’ she said threateningly. ‘You think all of this is silly or useless, but it is all for your future happiness. Marriage is the greatest happiness elves can know, and it can never hurt for a maiden to keep a watch for one.'

‘But why must it be a Noldo?’ I asked unhappily. I had many misgivings about my sister's apparent designs on hunting for a husband, but there was a particular point that disturbed me. ‘Is it because you think less of Falmarin elves? Or because you think you’re more Noldor than Falmari?’

Rámanís poked me once more, even harder. ‘What are you saying? Do you think your sister is so shallow?' Her mirth softened a touch, and she asked, 'Vinya, don't tell me you cannot see the good of marrying outside your kind?’

‘Good?’ I echoed dubiously. 

‘Think on it. If there were more marriages the Kindreds, wouldn’t that lessen the divide between our peoples? You wouldn’t feel so strongly about our differences then.’

This was the first that I had ever considered my sister's preference for Noldorin company as anything other than a way to elevate herself. I could see then that she truly and passionately believed in the unity of the Kindreds, that she seemed to believe in a more unified future for us as a nation. But it was too difficult to imagine.

‘Still, they see you as Falmarin—'

'You and father and Vëantur are the same,' Rámanís said, rolling her eyes. 'Why must I be one or the other? I am Falmarin, I am Noldorin. So is our mother.' I was skeptical. To me, our mother had clearly chosen to be Falmarin. 'Intermarriage is good for us, as a people,' Rámanís insisted. 'Look to the House of Arafinwë.'

‘Sister, isn’t your method going to take too long?’ Rámavindë interjected, mirroring my doubts. ‘Isn’t it only by chance that our people are in deep friendship with the Noldor? And the Vanyar keep to themselves. How could the unity you speak of ever come to pass?’

The Vanyar were the First Kindred, and were sometimes as lofty as the Valar; they mostly lived on Taniquetil, beneath the halls of Manwë himself.

'Too long? Why, do we lack time?' Rámanís laughed gaily. ‘Another silly one. I am not suggesting that we become one Kindred, only that there are more ties between us than differences.’ She shook her head at us. ‘Ah, forget it. You two are simply young to understand the strength of marriage ties.’

My brother made a face, but I was distracted by my sister's assessment of the House of Arafinwë. Dimly I recalled that King Finwë's wife was of the Vanyar. That meant that his son Arafinwë, who had married our Lady Eärwendë, had children descended of all three Kindreds. And their children were reputed as the most beautiful.

Still, I was not comfortable with the idea of my sister marrying into the Noldor. I did not know why it was I felt that way at the time, but now I know that it is because meant that she would be gone from Alqualondë for good.

‘Besides, I would not love one because one is Noldo or Falmari—I would love one for who they are. If he is Noldorin, then why would I not remove to Tirion to be with him?’ This time I really made a face, and Rámanís cast her gaze at me. ‘What? You wouldn’t do the same?’

I was incredulous. 'Why would I? If he truly loved me, he would remove to Alqualondë.'

My brother smiled then. 'I feel sorry for your future husband, Vinya.'

I threw up my hands. 'Why must we speak of this? Even if I did marry, it is unlikely my husband would be Noldorin.’

'None of the Noldo were to your liking?' Rámanís came near to pinch my cheeks, a habit she had when she wanted to tease me.

'None,' I said, trying to escape; but my sister was unfortunately very swift. 'And I don't think any of them would be interested in me.' I saw Rámavindë open his mouth to say something, but he seemed to have thought better of it and said nothing.

'But if you had to choose,' Rámanís persisted, still squeezing my cheeks, with my traitor brother doing nothing to help. 'Who would you--?'

I nearly despaired, because it was that tone my sister had when she would never relent. Sure enough, she began to pester me about which of the noble lords were to my liking, even just by looks. Rámavindë was uncomfortable, and I was fed up. I thought about all the lords we had met. I ought to just give a name, I thought. But nobody was to my liking. Aikanáro? Arakáno? They were great princes of elves, it was true--but that meant little to me.

'Artanís,' I pronounced, finally getting her to let go. I jumped to go stand behind Rámavindë, and didn't let him move away.

'What!'

'Lady Artanís,' I repeated, satisfied with my answer. I had glimpsed her once from afar, and could not help but admire her beauty, but more than that I admired her strength.'I would marry her.'

Rámanís was utterly perplexed. 'But--'

'No, I can see her point,' said Rámavindë, sounding like he wanted to laugh. 'The Lady Artanís is beautiful beyond measure, but before that she is a great lady of adventurous spirit. She will not begrudge Vinya's need to be in Alqualondë, nor would she ever prevent her from sailing, swimming, or pearl diving. We are also kin from afar, and though not nearly as lofty, we are still noble. In many ways Vinya is her ideal husband.’

'And she would look beautiful in pearls,' I finished. To annoy my sister, I also said, ‘Any elf whose beauty enhances pearls is good enough for me.’ I was prepared to jump up a tree for my sister retaliation. Instead, a new amused voice floated over us. 

'I thank you for this great compliment.'

We all jumped up, my sister’s voice close to squeaking.

Somehow the lady herself had appeared in the garden, her expression greatly entertained. Somehow, all three of us had forgotten that we were currently in Lady Eärwendë’s courrtly residence, and that any one of her children might be present.

'Lady Artanís!' Rámanís gasped, curtsying low. She twitched wildly enough for me to catch on that I was meant to do the same. I lost my nerve and bowed instead. ‘Lady—we meant no mischief—'

'Be at ease, cousins,' Artanís said lightly. Her mirth was evident and I was more embarrassed than I had ever been in my life. I trembled a bit when her smile was directed at me. ‘But alas I am not accepting any suits at present.'

I did not wonder at her beauty, when she was the child of Lady Eärwendë and Lord Arafinwë; but it was still startling to be up close with her that I felt completely abashed. 

‘It’s a pity,’ I mumbled, blinking in a daze; and I believe Rámanís was ready to drop me into a fountain herself, had the great lady not been present.

✧

Happily, the incident was enough to convince my sister to give up persuading me to stay in Tirion a season longer. Although Lady Artanís had not taken any offense, it seemed clear enough to Rámanís that I wasn’t suited to courtly life. My brother and I were sent back to Alqualondë without much fuss.

I spent some days regaling my mother of my misadventures at Tirion, making her laugh and my father smile. My mother and I shared an admiration for Lady Artanís, who was as capable as any ner-elf. My admiration of her increased when my mother told me of how Lady Eärwendë's children had spent some of their elfling years in Alqualondë with their grandfather King Olwë, and how Artanís took to the water better than all her brothers.

I did not think much more of it, however, and soon we were back to our lives in Alqualondë. As I have said, my family did not have a taste for the pomp and ceremony; it was only Rámanís who seemed to navigate that place smoothly. So I was left to my own devices again, and happiest for it. 

Yet our happy days could not last, though I could not see it then.

I did not watch the signs, having no patience for prophecy, but I should have known that the unease I felt of Tirion was no small thing. At the very least I should have questioned it more when my eldest brother Vëantur began to argue with our father.

My father was known as Círyatur, for that was what he was, a lord of ships. So was my eldest brother Vëantur, but my stoic father never left Alqualondë to go inland if he could help it. Vëantur kept up with our Noldorin relatives and sometimes spent time with our sister in Tirion.

This time, there was a growing shadow in his mind, Vëantur said. Not all was well with the Noldor.

He made mention of many things like it for a while, bringing tidings of the tensions at Tirion. It seemed that the princes of the Noldor were in conflict; King Finwë’s son was Fëanáro, who was one of the mightiest of the Noldor, and perhaps of our race. But for some reason he was at odds with his brother Nolofinwë, and even the Valar had begun to mediate.

All this I paid little attention to. But then one day Vëantur made a proposal that alarmed our father.

'This is senseless,' said our father.

'I am only suggesting more of a fortification,' said Vëantur. 'It could not hurt to be better armed.'

'Armed for what?' challenged my father. 'We live in peace, all praise to the Holy Ones. We need not give ourselves the capacity for needless violence.'

My brother was agitated. 'I am telling you, not all is well with the Noldor! We should not be caught unawares.'

'And I am telling you it has little to do with us!' said our father, his voice harsher than I had ever known it. 'No, my son, we are Falmarin lords. The petty squabbles of Noldorin royalty have naught to do with our lives here in Alqualondë.'

The row continued, to the rest of our family’s discomfort, and sides were somewhat taken. My second brother Fárantur quietly agreed with Vëantur, but he did not have the combative nature to stand up to our father; moreover he was a pious elf who believed that the Valar would provide, and all would be well.

Rámavindë was the opposite, agreeing with our father but not willing to argue our eldest brother over it. Something about his stay in Tirion made him think so, I knew, but I was never able to figure out what. Meanwhile my sister Rámanís argued with Vëantur when he tried to limit her outings in Tirion.

My mother spent long hours speaking to each of them, her object to maintain peace in the family. As for me, I was skeptical of Vëantur's claims--but I knew he did not do anything lightly, and so was not surprised that he had quietly began to build a small armament for the harbours.

'It is not so bad,' I said to Rámavindë aside. 'If it turns out there will be no need for these weapons, then it is not as though much has been lost.'

But my brother looked uneasily at the arms. ‘Aren’t we inviting trouble this way?’

I think I knew he was right, even then, but I did not want to think about it. Surely this was like a storm that would pass.

✧

Our house was not very happy lately. Our father had recently recalled Rámanís to Alqualondë, and when she received the summons she took out her anger on Vëantur, who had been tasked with bringing her back. I was surprised at the force of her anger. Certainly she argued with our brothers often, but she did not quarrel with them. This time the silence between my brother and sister after words were exchanged was chilly.

Our mother soothed Rámanís by saying that it was only for the time being, while the situation in Tirion cooled.

I expected my sister to fight more, but one day she arrived home more grave than unhappy.

'Things are not well,' she said. She had letters in her hand. She had taken her turn speaking long with my mother, then my father, then with Vëantur.

‘Hasn't the Lord Fëanáro finally made up with the Lord Nolofinwë?’ I asked.

‘Alas. He has been exiled to Formenos.’

‘Exiled?’ I was startled. The great Fëanáro, exiled? ‘He should just swallow his pride. What is worth fighting your brother for?’

My sister frowned. ‘Really, Vinya, it’s so much more complicated than that…’

My gaze became impatient. ‘Fine, let’s not speak of it. I am tired of these things. Can you look at this weave? It's for our pearl dive--’

But Rámanís only sighed, and said she had not the heart at the moment. Indeed nowadays when she was not having serious discussions with my parents, she was too lost in thought to bother with me.

It annoyed me, but I confess that I had found enough to distract me. 

The Falmari had a custom of sending their children on a pearl dive, as a kind of coming-of-age. That year was the turn of my brother Rámavindë and me, and I could talk of nothing else. This was because the custom meant having our own vessel, and sailing off the coast for several passes of the Trees' light. We had previously gone on freshwater hunts, as there were sites in the great rivers that were blessed with pearls, but the open water would be different.

Up until the tidings from Tirion had upset our family balance, everyone had been looking forward to the voyage of the Rámavinya. My father had let us borrow one of his small vessels to practice in, and Vëantur had given us lots of pedantic advice about the dive itself. 

Now however both my mother and father were too preoccupied with the goings of the Noldor, and Vëantur busy with his secret defensive armaments.

It was only our second brother Fárantur who minded us as the date drew near. 

I was attached to Fárantur. Of my elder brothers, Vëantur awed me but Fárantur was dear to me. I think it was because he always patiently listened to what I had to say, and never censured me the way Vëantur and Rámanís did. Fárantur trusted me to examine myself for my own faults. Consequently I spent a lot of time as an elfling in his workshop, underfoot. Fárantur was a master ship-builder. If there was anything that motivated me to continue with sail-weaving throughout my childhood, it was the idea that I could build the ship with Fárantur, and sail away on it with Rámavindë.

For our dive, he’d gifted us a ship that he had made with his own hands. It was a small vessel that could be manned by a single elf, yet it was comfortable for the two of us to live aboard for the time needed. Rámavindë and I were agreed that there was no more beautiful vessel in Alqualondë, that we were blessed with the best brother in Aman, and so on and so forth. 

Our last hurdle came on the eve before our departure. My mother had quietly raised some objections, feeling the unease of all that went on with the Noldor, that we would be away for many passes of the Two Trees.

I debated with her perhaps rather childishly, alternating between pleading and cajoling. We were the last two elves of our age who had not yet done our open water pearl dive, and it would shame us to be left behind. Several of our cousins had gone earlier in the year.

My mother was not swayed. I confess that I nearly opened my mouth to say words I would regret, that she couldn't understand the importance of the dive to us because she was Noldor, but it was Fárantur who spoke first.

‘It is good for them to learn, and to not always be at their siblings’ ordering,’ he said slowly, ‘and you know that Vinya has applied herself to the sail-weaving better than she has ever before. Besides which, they are good sailors, and Lady Uinen will protect them.'

There was some silence. 

Eventually my mother sighed. ‘I know this.’ Looking at me, she said with some apology, ‘It is not that I doubt your water gifts, my Hísiníë, nor do I doubt that the Lady Uinen’s graces…’ Her voice trailed off.

‘We’ll be careful!’ I said, brightening because I knew she had relented. Her smile was faint.

‘You’ll each mind the other?’

‘Yes, always, yes!’ I said, jumping up and down, running to embrace her and then half-strangling Fárantur too.

And so, in that 1495th Year of the Two Trees, Rámavindë and I set out on our own.

✧

The pearl diving itself did not go as well as we had hoped, in that we did not find so many. But the disappointment was nothing next to the exhilaration of voyaging on our own. It was true that we did not go very far, staying close to the coast; but there was nothing like having our own ship, watching the light of the Two Trees on the sea, and listening to the sound of water.

Even more delightful was how beautifully the ship sailed. We'd called it _Quessëráma,_ since it at times resembled a slender white bird on the water. It was also that the device of our house was a single feather; some of the vessel's carvings intimated as much. 

'Fárantur, genius of the ship-lords!' I called to the wind. 'We should compose a song for him.'

' _Shore-lord great, seafarer’s spirit_ ,' Rámavindë tried. He made a face. 'We should consult Rámanís.' We the Teleri were known for our fair voices, but not for our compositions.

'It's true, she sings best of us,' I mused, 'but don't you think Vëantur has the better skill with composition?'

'Vëantur is too serious,' Rámavindë argued. 'Rámanís makes songs that are fun to listen to.'

'The problem is that Fárantur is the best composer,' I said thoughtfully. 'Do you remember the poem he made for Mother last season?'

We were both at rest, waiting for the moment that the light of the Two Trees were co-mingled. At the moment it was dusk, when the light of Telperion waxed and the light of Laurelin waned. My brother had a preference for the silvery light of Telperion, while I liked the way the gold of Laurelin bounced off the waves; it was a great topic between us which one was better, dusk or dawn. But both of us thought that when the two lights were briefly joined, it always seemed like the world was perfect.

‘Here it comes,’ said Rámavindë, and we cast our eyes up eagerly.

We watched as the light of Laurelin waned--but then, Telperion also waned, both lights diminishing suddenly into darkness.

I let out a gasp and a cry, incoherent. The light of the Two Trees had vanished.

How could light vanish?

We sat in darkness for a time, too stunned to speak.

We had never known such darkness before, you see. 

It was Rámavindë who reacted first, finally saying, ‘we must return.’ I did not refute him. Even to me it was obvious that something beyond all expectations had happened, and we should be with our family. We changed courses in silence.

Oddly enough, though sitting in the darkness for the first time should have perhaps frightened us, we did not really know fear. We had no idea of what had befallen, and could only make our way back.

It would be difficult to sail home in the sudden darkness, it was true; but young as we were, we were Falmari. We had our lady Varda's stars, and our ears, and our sense of smell, and we knew the feel of water. We could navigate the tides and find our way.

No, any unease I felt in those long days sailing home was not for ourselves.

We were silent for most of the way, but my brother discovered that singing was a comfort in the dark, and so we sang songs of water for a time. 

Still, somewhere, I thought—surely, something terrible must have happened, but--the Valar would restore the light, would they not?

After long, at last, we caught sight of the harbours.

We stopped singing.

Then, my brother gave a cry. 

'There is a strange light from the harbours!'

The sound stirred something fearful in my heart.

'What is--' I began, but did not finish when my eyes adjusted. 'That is--'

There, sailing swiftly from the harbour from what we could see were the ships. I say the ships because it had to have been every single able ship from the harbours, an entire host of swan-ships, their graceful prows pointed northward.

'Where are they going?' Rámavindë wondered, amazed. A cold wind blew. Then a dark dread filled me as my eyes scanned the harbours. 'What is that? Why is there smoke--?'

I did not yet understand what we were seeing. But our eyes were not deceived; the harbours of Alqualondë were on fire, our home was burning, and every swan-ship we owned was sailing swiftly away, away, away.

✧

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Part I. Part II comes next week. I am also still figuring out tags as we go. 
> 
> Hello everybody who has read so far, thank you for being here.


	4. II: Of Alqualondë part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What they found there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would hope the 'Kinslaying' tag is enough of a content warning, but just in case it's not: there's lots of mentions of death this chapter and... throughout this fic. Hashtag First Age Things. **CW** for what is (coded like?) a genocide/massacre, and its aftermath.
> 
> It seemed to me that the First Kinslaying is always treated as either being a tragedy of the Noldor, or a relevant historical event to the Sindar, so this time I wanted to do a Falmarin point of view.

✧

_In the time of Ramwing's coming of age, her elder brother Ramros brought dark tidings from Tirion. The great prince of the Noldor Fëanor had been banished to Formenos, and not all was well with the Noldor. But Ramis disagreed with his son, saying that it had little to do with them in Alqualondë. Ramwing discovered that Ramros thought about arming his household in the style of the Noldor, and was disturbed; yet life went on in Alqualondë for a time._

_Then the unthinkable came to pass. The hosts of the Noldor came marching into Alqualondë led by Fëanor himself. Swiftly they demanded use of the Telerin ships, a demand which Ramis and the other ship lords refused._

_Ramwing with her twin Ramwind had been away pearl-diving; they had returned only to have lost all. By this time Fëanor and his sons had departed, having taken the ships, and the hosts of Fingolfin and Finarfin were left to face the aftermath of the First Kinslaying._

✧

What can I say about the yawn of darkness of that time? 

My brother and I sped to the harbour, saying nothing to one another, because the fear had already taken hold.

There was no reason every ship in Alqualondë would ever be deployed at once, and yet I already formed reasons in my mind--anything that would explain away the dread.

What we found was beyond our comprehension. Elves, slain. Not sleeping, but truly slain, by blades and arrows alike. So profound was our confusion that my brother and I made our way towards our home with still naught a word between us.

Then--

'They are not here,' said Rámavindë, before we even entered.

'Then we must go find them.’ I sounded frightened even to myself.

We made for the main harbour, where my father and brothers worked and my mother often stayed to delegate on the shore. At last the eerie silence was broken, but the sounds we heard were strange. And we encountered live elves--many of them gravely injured.

'What has happened?' I cried, but many of them would not or could not speak. ‘Please—tell us what has happened—’

Finally we heard someone call.

' _Rámavinya_! Do not go there!'

It was our cousin. He had been hurt, we could see, and his good-natured face bore a terrible expression. Still I ran to him. 'Tell us what has happened--'

'Do not go there,' he repeated, his voice hoarse and hollow. We stared at him.

Rámavindë comprehended before I did. He turned and ran. When our cousin could say no other word, I ran too.

It was no easy thing to find them all, but we did. Silently, hollowly, as though we were merely watching ourselves do it.

Our father Rámamístë and our brother Vëantur we found close to the docks. Our brother had his bow and a sword, so unlike our people. Our father was unarmed to the end. Both had been cut down by blades.

Further into the docks, we found our brother Fárantur. He had his bow and his long knife, but his quiver was near-full and his blade was clean. He had been pierced by two arrows, worse than a hunted animal.

Closer to the harbour-homes was our mother. She had a bow, and a quiver near-empty. She had been a fair hunter, but never a warrior. The wound that had taken her was from a spear.

Then, last of all and much later, the worst of it: our sister Rámanís along the shore. There was no blade-wound on her _hröa_ , her elven body, and yet her _f_ _ëa_ was no longer there. She was dead like the rest of the elves on the beach. But we found her so close to the water that Rámavindë said it was as though she had been washed ashore.

'This is senseless,' I said at once, though I knew it was not unlikely that she had been on board any one of the swan-ships. 'She could swim as well as any…' My voice trailed off, too weak to finish the thought.

'Perhaps Lady Uinen brought her back to us,' said Rámavindë, his voice equally weak.

I nodded, though I did not know if I would believe it.

And what did it matter? Our sister was dead. They all were.

We brought them together, our parents and our siblings, though we knew that their _fëar_ were no longer housed. These forms we knew as our family were merely _hröar_ now. I helped my brother bring the _hröar_ to a quiet place, lining them side by side, but it was Rámavindë who reached down and closed their eyes.

When I opened my eyes again I said, 'They were Noldor.’

'What?'

'Nearly all the slain are our people,' I said. 'But for a few--fully-armed Noldor.'

Rámavindë said nothing.

'We are their kin,' I said. 'We are their kin, and they killed us, and took our ships.'

Already in my heart there was fire.

✧

The silence that had shadowed Alqualondë seemed to stretch long, deafening. My brother and I did not dare separate. We received snatches of news from our still-living cousins and neighbours, but for the most part it was as though all of Alqualondë had ceased speaking. Not a single Falmarin elf I knew had not lost someone to the Noldor host.

For that was who had come to slay us, we learned. From the number of Noldor that had arrived it was as though all of Tirion had been emptied.

It seemed that, in the time that my brother and I had been away, King Finwë was dead. The light of the Two Trees had been lost. The Noldor had fled.

And still they were near, a great horde of them marching north away from our city, the same direction we had seen the ships take. To what end, we did not know, but it was rumoured that the Noldor were in open revolt against the Valar, which had spurned them into the madness.

Madness, I thought, did not excuse what they had done. It was kinslaying.

My brother grieved, but there was no room in me for that.

Our brother Vëantur had been betrothed to a lady called Nessalótë, and she had been slain not too far from him. Her family took her hröa, too grieved to allow my brother and I to tend her, or indeed to tell us themselves.

Only the lady's younger brother Ëaronil came to tell us that she was in their hands. Ëaronil was our friend, but in that hour he said that his parents had bitter things to say about our brother, and what things he had become involved with the Noldorin to get their daughter himself killed.

I half-rose in anger, but Ëaronil asked for peace. Pardon his parents’ bitter words, he said. He did not blame us in the least, he said. We were still friends.

'It is Nolofinwë of the Noldor we have to thank for our loss.'

'Nolofinwë?' I echoed.

'All the sons of Finwë march to avenge their king,' Ëaronil explained. 'And it was the sons of Fëanáro who took the ships by force, but the slaughter was only with the help of the mightier host, that of Nolofinwë.' He clasped hands with both my brother and with me before he departed.

I sat down slowly.

The Fëanoreans took our ships, but it was the Nolofinwëans who killed my family. I had my answer. I would start with them.

Rámavindë did not agree with me. He did not think my answer was the will of the Valar.

'What good is their will now?' I said angrily. 'Olwë himself called upon Lord Ulmo to punish the theft of the swan-ships, and heard nothing of the sort.'

'Then, their will aside,' said my brother, 'I do not think this is the right path.'

'It is justice,' I told him, but he shook his head.

'It is not. Kinslaying is kinslaying.' He tried to wrap his arms around me, but I pushed him away in anger.

'Will you stop me?'

'No,' said Rámavindë sadly. 'I will follow you.'

It had always been thus. Always he would bend to my will. Always he had been the better elf. I think I knew this even then.

We went to the armament. Our brother Vëantur had not been idle, nor had he been speaking hot air when he said we ought to be armed. I found a sword light enough for me to wield, though it was still heavier than any knife I had ever carried. I also chose for myself a bow in a make much more powerful than the slender hunting bow I was used to. Rámavindë did much the same.

Wordlessly, I armed myself in other ways: the leaf-brooch of my father's, which resembled the feather, the device of our house. Rámavindë had the device on his ears, for he had a pair of earrings in their shape, but I did not, and so the brooch went to me. This I used to pin my cloak in place.

Then from each of my slain siblings, I took a silver hair clasp. I wove my hair into a style that would keep my hair out of my face and used all three clasps.

Then I could not bring myself to take anything of my mother's, but I had the earrings she had given me for my coming of age. I never wore them because I thought them too pretty for me, silver semi-hoops that ended with a pearl on each end.

But now I wore them grimly, my expression set into a hard line.

Rámavindë saw what I was doing, yet said no more of it.

✧

All was always darkness now, with the light of the Two Trees gone, but that night it felt darker than any I had known.

Noldorin messengers had come in to collect their dead. Nobody stopped them, though there were many words said. For my part, I ignored all other news, and kept watch on these messengers who had come from the princes’ households.

We tracked them back to their encampment.

It was easy to track them unseen, for we knew the land better than they did. By the time we pushed further north than we had ever been, the encampment was in sight. 

Indeed the encampment was so large that it was nigh impossible to miss. Great hosts of elves, in the thousands, such that I’d never seen or heard of. Had _all_ of the Noldor join in this revolt?

Still, it was not a problem for us two, being small lightfooted Falmari, to approach without being seen or heard.

The problem was what to do once we had reached the encampment.

‘Vinya,’ said my brother. ‘Vinya, are you certain—’

‘Yes! I answered fiercely. ‘We must do what we came here to do.’ Rámavindë bowed his head, but did not ask again. A thought came to me then. ‘They are Noldor.’

‘So?’

'Look for the most splendid tent.'

After some scouting, we found a cluster of tents that obviously belonged to the higher commanders, being much finer. It was not too difficult after this, to pick out the one where the highest ranking commander would reside.

We hid ourselves nearby.

‘What now?’

‘We wait.’

I willed myself to be patient, to move more quietly. Fishing, I told myself. The sword weighed heavier than when I had first put it on, but I stubbornly held on to it.

We had to wait for the right hour.

Then, when the hour had come--

We crept in. Through extinguished lamplight we saw the figure sleeping on the dais, his eyes the unmistakable piercing grey of the Noldor.

He was at rest.

I nodded to my brother, and drew my sword.

‘Vinya!’

In an instant, in the time it took for my sword to be noisily drawn, the figure from the bed had sprung up, wide awake, and pushed me backward; behind us, the tent was suddenly filled with ner-elves, and half a dozen spears pointed at us. I swung wildly, but even then I could see that I was painfully slow to the bright flash of the prince’s own sword. With a cry my brother lunged forward, to knock the blade that was pointing at me away, but he was pierced by a spear and then pinned to the ground. My own sword had been knocked away, my arm wrenched somewhere behind me, but when I cried out it was not for pain.

' _Vinyo_!'

'Halt!' said the prince from somewhere behind me. All the spears were withdrawn and their hold on my brother loosened, but he remained on the ground. I was released and I threw myself down at once, my panicked sobs rising.

'Vinyo, Vinyo, please, please do not--' My mind was in such turmoil I did not know what I was saying.

'Take him to the healers,' said the prince. He was obeyed at once, which meant that my brother was taken away.

'Stop!' I shouted. 'Do not touch him, murderers!'

My cries went unheeded, and then I was restrained, my hands behind my back, I was made to sit on a cushion, but I struggled wildly and they had to tie my legs as well.

'See that none hear of this,' said the prince now to one of his lieutenants. Then they left, bearing my brother, and I was alone with the prince. My eyes seemed to adjust, but I flailed wildly against my restraints.

'I will remove them if you stay still.'

I looked up to glare, and was caught by surprise. He was indeed a Noldorin prince, but he was not Nolofinwë. He was Nolofinwë's youngest son, Arakáno.

The recognition on his face showed me that he was just as surprised.

'I know you,' he said slowly. 'And your brother. You are the Rámavinya, are you not? Your sister is Marillissë.' He did not mention that we had met before. He too seemed so different from that time at the banquet—his face was terrible, and grim, and the light of his eyes seemed to be in turmoil.

Yet I swallowed down my pain, and my fear. 'I am Rámavingë, daughter of Rámamístë Ciryatur, of the house of Lanwë,' I began, with as strong a voice as I could muster. 'Sister of Vëantur, of Fárantur, of Rámanís Marillissë. Daughter of Fáranís, who called me Hísiníë--but the Noldor would know my mother as Celumë, for she was kin to them.' Even from my debasement I looked up at the prince as though looking down. 'I claim your life for theirs, Kinslayer.'

✧


	5. II: Of Alqualondë part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramavingë and her brother cause a stir with their presence.

✧

I did not know how long I was held in Arakáno's tent, but for some reason he was reluctant to transfer me to his guard.

I did not ponder, only glared at him as forcefully as I could. To my earlier declaration, Arakáno was silent. I wanted to curse at him, but he ignored me completely, and I was sat there for a long while, my own mind in heavy turmoil.

What about my brother? What had they done with him?

Eventually, through the haze of my mind, I realised that Arakáno did not want anyone to know what I had attempted to do, though soon it was apparent that one of his commanders had a strong opinion on what should be done with me.

'It is assassination.'

'It was unsuccessful,' said Arakáno, 'and they are barely full-grown.'

'I am not suggesting--it is still--'

'You lack the stomach to kill elf now?' I asked aloud, my voice low, laughing bitterly. 'You may as well execute me. I have nothing left. Nothing. You may kill me, and forget about me, and live guiltless for all your days, you accursed Noldor.'

The commander flinched, but Arakáno acted as though I had not spoken.

'The last thing the host needs is a spectacle such as this,' he said. 'Keep this quiet.'

Once the commander had gone, the prince finally came near to look at me. I was ready to face his anger, but--his expression was unreadable. 

'Why me?' asked Arakáno after a while, with a hint of his droll tone. 'I do not dispute that I may deserve it to your mind, but I am curious. Why me, of all the Noldor?'

I levelled my stare at him. 'I mistook this for Nolofinwë's tent.’

Arakáno's eyes widened, then he loomed suddenly close to me. I did not flinch, pleased that he seemed startled at last.

‘You dared to—kill my father?’

‘He killed mine!’ I said as insultingly as I could, my anger rising again. Arakáno did not soften, and I also did not relent. ‘He, it was _his_ host that slaughtered my kin, it was _his_ remnant of the Noldor that sealed their deaths!’

Something flashed in his eyes then--was it pain?--yet he still bore down. ‘So you repay blood for blood?’

‘Why shouldn’t I? Or should I sit still and do nothing? Never seek justice for the slaying of kin?’

'Listen to me.' Arakáno leaned in so fiercely that I was taken aback. I could not draw back either, because I was still restrained. 'Do not ever say to anyone that you intended to kill my father from the beginning. Do you understand? It will not be forgiven.'

'And why should I care to be forgiven by the Noldor?' I retorted. He loomed closer.

'Because the penalty is death,' said Arakáno, his face close to mine.

I stared resolutely back. My voice was too bitter.

'I have already paid that penalty. Four times over. No, five… what does a Noldor care about death. You killed my kin. You are murderers.'

At these words Arakáno pulled away, and was silent again for a time.

Then, without looking at me, he said lowly, 'It was a poor plan, however well executed it was until you chose my tent.’ I was incensed, but he did not heed me. 'You chose a sword, a weapon you barely know how to use, for a deed you have never done. A bow would have been easier.'

I stilled. It would have indeed, or at least it would have been less clumsy. But I knew why I wanted it to be the sword. I wanted the Noldor to suffer by their own wicked crafts. A bow was an everyday tool to me, as a knife was. A sword, in the end, had its purpose—as a weapon.

Somehow I could not voice this aloud.

'It is well,' said Arakáno calmly. 'Had you succeeded you would have died just as swiftly. But you and your brother live.'

My eyes widened. 'Rámavindë?' I said, hardly breathing. 'Alquatur?'

'He lives. It was not a fatal wound.’

I did not realise how quickly I had accepted my brother's death until I felt how relieved I was that he was alive. Tears sprang into my eyes, and I could barely see. I murmured my brother’s name with relief.

I almost did not notice the restraints being removed.

Arakáno was kneeling before me. When I realised this, I turned away from him, unwilling for him to glimpse a single tear. I took to biting my own fist to stop it.

Arakáno’s voice sounded far away, 'As soon as he is able, we will send you to your king.'

✧

There was a complication in sending us to Olwë, for Olwë would receive no messengers from the Noldor. None of our other relatives, too, could be reached, and Tirion was too far to spare anyone to send us with. And if we did not take our leave of the Noldor soon, we would be too far from Alqualondë. They were marching, I realised. Ever northward. I shuddered.

But I was to be reunited with my brother, and that was all that occupied me for a while. I was brought to see him, and I was stunned to see him smile ruefully at me. I ran forward and I threw my arms around him, cursing myself for being so frightened.

Weakly he embraced me back. It was a deep wound, and he was maimed, but he would heal with time.

Observing us was Arakáno.

'If you care this much for your brother, never seek to confront the Noldor again,' said Arakáno. I rose up, glaring, but he merely bowed once and left us.

'Vinya,' said my brother. I turned back to him, anxious.

'What have they done,' I whispered to him. ‘What have—what have _I_ done—‘

'I chose to go with you.’ Rámavindë squeezed my hand and I could feel that he was still weak. 'I will heal. They have able healers, here.'

I frowned. 'How can you be grateful to the people who nearly killed you in the first place?'

'We threatened their prince.'

'They killed our family!'

'And that madness ought to stop with them,' Rámavindë said firmly. He closed his eyes. I wanted to ask what he and Arakáno had said to one another, but my brother looked drained of life, and it frightened me. 'Vinya, please. How could I lose what is left of my family?'

I said no more. He stroked my hair gently, as our father had done when we were elflings.

Since Olwë did not hear of us, Arakáno confided in his aunt the lady Eärwendë, whom he knew had some kinship with us and who had hosted us before besides. It was decided that we would go to her where she was encamped with her husband Arafinwë and children. There was the added advantage of their part of the host being further behind Nolofinwë's.

I did not know how to feel. The house of Arafinwë was the one I had conveniently put out of my mind for the very reason that we had a connection to them. I knew vaguely that they were the only house of Finwë that did not participate in the Kinslaying, and indeed some of them had rushed to defend their mother's kin from their father's kin. Yet they were here in this host, this revolt that had clearly sprung from madness. Were they really going to follow Fëanáro to doom?

I did not mean to voice as much to Lady Eärwendë, but my face must have given it away, because when she finally received us she gave a small gasp and approached us quickly, and her long graceful arms encircled us both.

My brother wept, but I was still as a stone.

'Let us speak,' said the lady, and we could only do was we were bid.

It was then that the strange tale of the revolt, unfinished, was told to us. At last all the foreboding that my brother Vëantur spoke of, the shadow that he feared so much was made clear to me. The unspeakable monster that had devoured the light of the Trees, the exile of the Fëanoreans to Formenos, the murder of the High King of the Noldor--and then the Silmarils, these great jewels by Fëanáro, the theft of which drove his mad flight.

Still it was too bitter, and I said, 'Then we are orphaned for the sake of these jewels.’ I thought of the Fëanoreans on our ships, out there, manning them. Our ships were our greatest treasures, and they took them along with our lives. 

They must have tried to take my sister, I thought suddenly, remembering Rámanís washed ashore, unable to forget the sight.

Rámanís was the daughter of a ship-lord, she knew almost as well as my brothers how to master a swan-ship. Instead of helping the Noldor she so admired against the Valar, she must have refused. Then what? Killed, and cast overboard?

‘Vinya?’ I could hear my brother calling, but my mind’s eye was too fixed on the vision of my sister.

There was another thing that bothered me.

My sister always wore on her arm a silver armlet, a delicate band that stopped shy of forming a loop, with a large pearl at each end. It had belonged to our mother and reforged for my sister, with her name engraved on the inner curve. I had received a pair of earrings in the same style, the ones that I had put on the night I planned to take Nolofinwë's life, my own name inscribed on the inner curve. My mother bequeathed them us, her daughters, herself keeping the necklace that completed the set.

But when we found Rámanís, I noticed that the armlet was gone. I thought less of it, when such petty theft was the least of the wrongs done to us, but now I recalled that she intended to give it to her betrothed.

My anger tore at me anew. And then, perhaps because of the grief, the vision that filled my mind next was that of Arakáno. How dare he lecture me on my choices when his was the clan that took them away. They were murderers, thieves—they stole my family’s lives.

‘Vinya?’

I shook my head. A plan began to form in my mind, but I did not want anyone to know of it.

I did not speak again for a long time, simply unwilling to use words when the pain was so strong.

✧

We rarely saw anyone apart from those in Lady Eärwendë's house, which was to our comfort because some of them were Falmarin. But a deep melancholy had taken ahold of us all, for none knew what lay ahead.

There was only one brief visit by Aikanáro, Lady Eärwendë's youngest son, who had kept my brother in his company the last time we were in Tirion. He spoke with my brother as a friend, and gave us some sense of what was happening. I sat by mutely as they discussed the goings-on.

The hosts were debating, he said, on their course, for though they had not enough ships to take them all east. It was likely that they would have to make more than one voyage, to be able to take the entire host across.

I listened with intent, for my secret plan was to sail myself once back in Alqualondë; I would take the _Quessëráme_ , the ship that my brother had built, and pursue the Noldor to the ends of the world.

For a moment, I was afraid of being discovered and having the ship taken from me, but I knew that there were simply no large ships left to take such a host across the sea.

'When the time comes you may be able to return to Alqualondë,' Aikanáro was saying kindly. He said several more things, but my gaze drifted over to his companions. Two of them had been among those who had teased me at the banquet all that time ago, and who had been fond of my brother when he had been under their care.

Neither of them could look at us in the eye.

Disinterested, I waited to see what the Noldor would do.

After some time, we were stunned to learn, that it was the Valar that spurned them.

I knew not why the Valar had kept their silence for so long. When it came to the Holy Ones, the one in our family who was most devout and learned was my brother Fárantur, but I had no way of even imagining how he might explain it.

After all, was it not so that the Noldor were not mightier than the Valar? Why hadn’t they done anything?

These thoughts were about me even as I heard that cold voice that rang across the land. We later learned that there was a dark figure on Araman who had appeared, and began to speak, and must have been a Maia—or even one of the Valar.

I could not ever describe the voice thereafter. So terrible it was a pronouncement that I felt myself quake, yet I could not forget every word. Later when I heard it called the _Doom of Mandos_ I thought the name light for what I had heard.

But the Valar had spoken: the Noldor were accursed, should they push forth unrepentant.

Fëanáro, I was chilled to hear, only scoffed at the words uttered by the Holy Ones. His path was clear.

But Arafinwë halted at once. It was the first I had seen of Lady Eärwendë's husband that day; we had all been summoned to heed him, and I was struck by the gold of his hair and the steadfastness of his mien. It was sometimes said that he was the wisest of the sons of Finwë, more scholarly in nature.

He would turn back, he said. To push forth was madness and folly. All who were repentant were welcome to join him and his lady to ask the Valar for forgiveness.

'But Lord Aikanáro does not stand with him,' my brother observed. In fact, none of Arafinwë's children did. His grandson Artaresto was present, but he only presented himself to bid his grandparents farewell.

I could hear Lady Eärwendë’s sobs from where we stood. Artaresto was even younger than my brother and I were, and so I thought he would go with his grandsire back to Tirion. But now he embraced first Eärwendë and then Arafinwë, and then he went to join his father and uncles and aunt.

All of Arafinwë's children were joining Nolofinwë's host, and all the rest who were unrepentant. Eärwendë was so heartbroken that her children did not dare turn back to look at her.

In my heart I was relieved. Had I been more honest I would have known that I sought for a way to absolve Lady Eärwendë's family from their part in the Kinslaying, for I still thought of them as kin. If the Valar forgave her, so could I. Arafinwë had my pardon by association, though even then I could see how much the decision pained him.

I even began to justify her part. Perhaps Lady Eärwendë never intended to make the journey, only went as far as she dared for the sake of her husband and children. To my mind, Arafinwë's choice was made easy by her, for how could he willingly be sundered from his wife?

But for their children to spurn ever onwards… I swallowed, remembering the power I had seen and admired in Artanís' eyes. She defended us from her own kin, but she never intended to remain in Aman.

'Then they will be sundered,' Rámavindë said with some awe. He could not believe that a family would willingly separate. 'Father and mother from their own children.'

Indeed we learned that all of Finwë’s grandchildren would go, because they all at that hunger for new lands.

Stranger to me were Nolofinwë and Fëanáro. Both their wives remained in Tirion, and yet they were to march on. My own father spent a great deal of time on swan-ships, but he always, always returned to my mother on the shore. The Nolofinweans, on the other hand, were preparing to depart without thought of return, and the Fëanoreans had already gone.

The ships were gone from our sights with, it seemed, a mere blink. The plan was for the ships to return for Nolofinwë's host, that waited patiently on the cold shores of Araman.

'Madness,' said my brother, shaking his head. But he was looking forward to the flight of the Noldor, thinking that once they were gone he and I could return to Alqualondë.

✧

Once I knew their plans, I had to move quickly. I left my brother in a healer's tent and sought an audience with Lady Eärwendë. They were soon to depart, and so I did not waste time with much formality. I fell at once to my knees and begged for her favour.

I knew that this was the quickest way to have her agree. All was stone-silent when I made my request. I looked up, and saw that though I had achieved my goal, I had caused her even more pain.

'When first I saw you I thought of how much you resembled me in youth,' she said, unexpectedly. 'You had the look of one who longed for the sea and only lived for the sea, not balls or sashes or jewels.' I was abashed. Of all things she could have said, I did not expect this. 'What have we done to have you make such a terrible choice?' Tears then fell from her eyes. 'What are you planning, child?'

But in the end she nodded her assent. She would not stop me, not when she could not even stop her own children, not when the Valar could not stop the Noldor. And she agreed to my request.

So it was that in the hour that Lady Eärwendë and her people were to return to Tirion, my brother was born aloft on a litter, to be sent to Olwë's house in Alqualondë. Before they took him I sat beside him and gave him a draught to drink, for he was cold.

'But you will be out of Araman soon enough,' I said softly.

'When we return to Alqualondë we may look to our parents and brothers and sister,' Rámavindë said, in a comforting tone. 'Then you and I--we can take the _Quessërráme_ out. I have thought about it. We can live away for a while. We've never sailed as far south as the Pelori...'

I waited until his eyes were heavy, which was cowardly, but I could not risk what he might do if he knew my intent.

'It falls to me to end this,' I spoke. 'I hope--I hope you can forgive me, Vinyo.'

'What?' Rámavindë's voice was heavy. 'Vinya, what are you saying…'

I held his face and kissed his head. Then I took from my ear my earring, and took one of his, and replaced it with mine. Thus we were both mismatched, a pair of pearls on one ear and the feather-leaf on the other.

'You have to rebuild Alqualondë,' I murmured to my brother, as he fell into deep rest. 'Make it as it once was.'

Then I gathered my few belongings and left.

✧

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Part II. Part III will go up either this weekend or early next week, work-permitting.
> 
> Also, in case people want a refresher on the children/houses of Finwë, and what version of canon I am following (Quenya):
> 
> Finwë (with Míriel Þerindë):  
> Curufinwë Fëanáro - seven sons w/ Nerdanel
> 
> Finwë (with Indis of the Vanyar):  
> Findis - married into the Vanyar; stayed behind in Aman  
> Nolofinwë Aracáno - three sons and one daughter w/ Anairë  
> Írimë - husbandless & childless; joins the revolt  
> Arafinwë Ingalaurë - three sons and one daughter w/ Eärwendë


	6. III: A Crossing part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rámavingë thinks she is prepared to cross.

_In their grief, Ramwing and Ramwind sought to take revenge on the Noldor. Arming herself with Ramros's armaments, Ramwing stole into an encampment belonging to Fingolfin's host. They were prevented and caught by Argon, Fingolfin's youngest son._

_Ramwind was badly wounded, and Ramwing despaired. Yet Ramwind lived, and none of the Noldor had the heart to punish them for the crime attempted assassination, and Argon most of all was unwilling to see them come to any more harm._

_It was swiftly agreed among the Noldor to send brother and sister to Olwë, but Olwë refused all messengers. Ramwing and Ramwind were thus sent to Eärwen, wife of Finarfin and daughter of Olwë. She took them in, grieving with them for all they had lost. It was she who explained to them the crisis over the Silmarils and the flight of the Noldor._

_Still Ramwing swore that she would not rest until she had seen the Noldor suffer as she had, even when the knell of the Doom of Mandos had tolled_

_Ramwing resolved to follow the Noldor to Middle-Earth. She requested that Eärwen take her brother, and instructed him to rebuild Alqualondë. 'It falls to me,' she told him, 'to see this to the end.'_

✧

I settled near Nolofinwë's part of the encampment once more, but this time I found a nook on the shore. It was cold, but strategic, for it would give me sight of the ships when they returned. The Fëanoreans had gone, having (I noted bitterly) mastered our swan-ships; they were borne across and would send them back for Nolofinwë’s host.

I did not know what the Nolofinweans planned to do, because Nolofinwë's host was much larger than Fëanáro's even before the children of Arafinwë joined them. But they would not notice me, I was sure, because I knew the swan-ships inside out, and I was light-footed enough to find a way onboard. I only had to wait.

I had abandoned my plan of taking the _Quessërráme_ across myself, since I feared losing sight of them. Stowing myself away with Nolofinwë’s host gave me better conditions for pursuit. No matter what anyone said, I still had to avenge my family. If it meant joining them in the Doom of Mandos, then…

Dully I looked up at our darkened sky. The stars were faint, because many clouds blocked their light. Without the Two Trees, it was desolate darkness.

Even the sounds seemed to me disconsolate. There weren't as many birds in the northern coasts, I observed, because of how cold it was. The absence of bird-cry unsettled me. The Fëanoreans had insisted on pushing north so that the crossing would be narrower, but it was such a lifeless plain.

That was Araman--an icy wasteland I had yet to know the worst of. Naively, I thought to myself that I was glad we would not be pushing further north.

I turned my thoughts to my brother, wondering if he had reached our king Olwë's halls. I had no fear of how he would be treated, for Olwë was a good king and Lady Eärwendë had promised me his protection besides. But I wondered how he was doing. He never complained about anything to anyone, except to me. Now that I was gone, who would he complain to?

I exhaled a breath, watching it take form in the cold air. My brother was such a kind, patient soul. Even birds liked him. He could call to them and they would swoop down and land on his finger or his arm, or even his head, and then be rewarded by a seed and his smile.

There was one time we found two birds, white as snow, chirping plaintively from their nest that had been abandoned. Carefully he rescued them. It was the only time I decided to help, and spent as much time as he did tending to the little birds, who soon grew large and strong. He named one Lossë. He let me name the other, and I called it Quessë, and it would sometimes peck affectionately at my hair. We had the playful idea that they would be our companion birds, the way the Noldor sometimes had hunting hawks.

But the day came when we took them out at last, and they flew overhead. We watched them from our vessel with delight, until we realised that only one of them circled and returned. Lossë had come back, Quessë did not.

My brother was more upset about it than I was. 'Now Lossë has no brother,' he said with real distress.

'Quessë is like the feather, and so wanted to fly,' I decided, trying to comfort him. 'Besides which, just because they aren't together now doesn't mean they aren't brothers. And Quessë may still come back...'

Quessë never did, but Rámavindë kept Lossë for as long as it lived. He seemed to feel guilty that I had been abandoned so, and let me have my way with many things, such us the naming of our first vessel. But it never troubled me as much as he imagined. I rather believed that Quessë had gone on an adventure somewhere far away, perhaps even across the sea. I simply never told my brother that I was envious.

✧

Before the swan-ships returned, I was noticed and caught. Somehow I had dozed, and when I came to there were two spear-wielding Noldorin peering at me, confused about why there was one little grey Falmarin hidden on the shore.

I thought it most unfair, when I had not done a thing to be noticed. I had lain low, even spending nights on the cold shore without even lighting a fire.

Nevertheless I was brought straight to none other than Arakáno. I did not bother hiding my grim surprise. Had I somehow chosen the part of the encampment close to him again?

'Did you think we would not notice that we were being watched?' Arakáno asked. He sighed. 'Why did you not return with my aunt?'

I maintained my sullen silence.

'And what was your plan this time?' Arakáno crossed his arms. 'Camp with naught but the thin cloak on your back on the icy ground and die of exposure?'

My gaze became angry, but I told myself not to rise to his provocations.

'You are worse than Itarillë,' he complained. I did not comprehend it, so he added, 'my brother Turukáno's child, an elfling.'

'I am not an elfling!' I exclaimed.

To his credit, he did not taunt me for being baited, only folded his arms as he looked at me. 'Then? What are you doing here?'

The skeptical tone angered me. 'I am here to see.’

'See what? Me?'

'To see if the Valar's curse runs true.' I should have held my gaze, but I could not for my own words were harsh; I steadied my own flinch. 'I have to see if you are justly punished for what you have done. If not, then…'

He sobered at once. I noticed his eyes travel to my ears, taking note of my mismatched earrings. Perhaps he even recalled who wore the feather-leaf.

We settled into darkened silence. He looked at me now with an expression I could not read.

'So you are resolved,' said the Noldor prince, more knowingly than I liked.

I told him grimly, 'I will not stop until I see the Fëanoreans pay. The only way to stop me is to slay me where I stand.'

‘So you’ve set your sights on them instead?’

‘It was on their account that all this came to pass.’

'I am glad you are sparing us Nolofinweans at least,' Arakáno said dryly.

'I do no such thing,' I said, keeping my temper in check. 'As far as I am concerned every Noldor who departs Aman is a guilty Kinslayer. But I am only one small elf, and the Fëanoreans committed the gravest offenses. I care not if I am beneath their notice, I care not if I am slain trying; they will pay.'

Arakáno was silent, and he met my gaze calmly, but the piercing greyness of his eyes gave away some inner turmoil.

'Do as you will,' he said finally. 'I cannot promise that none will stop you, should it ever become known what you intend, but I will neither keep you as a captive nor turn you away to fend for yourself.'

'That is kind of you,' I said, as caustically as I could. 'You need not think of me further, Nolofinwean.'

'But you will camp close to me.'

I stopped. 'What?'

'You may wander unseen across our host if you wish, but your place in the journey is near me always.'

I stared at him. The idea!

‘You have no right to order me so—'

'You will find it hard to move about a camp unmolested, _Falmarin_.’

His sudden change in address, and the sharpness of his words threw me off. 'You—are you are freely admitting to the baser natures of the Noldorin?' I snapped. 'Why would my presence be anything to anyone?'

'Because you resemble that which we are guilty of slaying.'

I inhaled sharply. It was the first I had heard him admit any guilt. 'Then I am a captive.'

'No, you are an unwelcome guest.' He became irritable. 'I cannot have any part of my host in disorder, or out of place. What do you think it would be like for our host to see you haunt them?'

'It would serve them right.’

'But it would sabotage your way to the Fëanoreans,' he pointed out. I was silent. He was right. 'Think of it as the price of your passage,' he said, after a moment. 'You follow us free and willing, on those terms, or not at all.'

I held his gaze. Wordlessly I nodded, once.

'Then we are agreed,' said Arakáno. Then he went to a chest and pulled out a heavy cloak, throwing it at me.

'I do not need--'

‘The crossing will be cold.’ He looked at me one last time.

I wanted to protest accepting anything, but there was a sudden cry from the outside. The quiet shattered into rumour, the encampment alive with urgent excitement.

Arakáno reacted swiftly, at once alert, and I followed him out to where a number of his kin and house were stood by the sea.

After the initial cry all quieted, watching without ability. The more that could be seen, the quieter it became. 

There, in the distant shore where the Fëanoreans must have landed, was a blaze of light and a column of smoke.

The ships were burning. They had been set alight. 

Nolofinwë was betrayed, I thought, as the last of the distant fires could be seen. Our ships—our precious ships, that we as a people had poured our very _fëar_ into crafting—burned black with the treachery, the smoke trailing skyward. I was amazed even as I was enraged. Our ships they mastered, and then cast off like they were nothing. We were truly nothing to them.

I retracted my gaze and hid my misery. 

From the mood at the encampment, it was clear that Nolofinwë’s host had taken a deep emotional blow. I did not pity them, and yet I could not rejoice. Even through my rage, I could feel the pain of such a betrayal. 

Fëanáro and his sons were more arrogant than I would have thought possible. It was true they had no blood ties with the Teleri, and would think less of us than perhaps the houses of Nolofinwë and of course Arafinwë would. Yet all their kin and kindred, they still left to perish in the cold reaches of the Araman.

It was so cruel a thought that I pushed it aside to think of myself.

I could not falter here! I had to make my way to where the kinslayers did, one way or another. 

My heart had sunk a little at the knowledge that now there was no way to go. Still there was in me some small and stubborn hope.

Already I began to reform my old plan and thought about crossing the sea myself on the Quessërráme. Surely Lady Uinen would bear me across. The only trouble was returning to Alqualondë to acquire such a vessel and making the journey before my brother learned of it. 

I returned to Arakáno's tent to ponder, ignoring any glances that were cast my way. Foolishly and too late I had realised that our agreement meant that I was to stay with him. As a prince he had an elaborate enough tent that I would not be abed in his precise room, yet it was as though he was personally housing me. Not a word was said, for the Noldor had much else to think about, and so I also kept my silence.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I was aware that this had some meaning to those who observed it, though I did not like to think about it. Besides, in practice it was not much to wonder at, when Arakáno himself was hardly ever in his tent. Naturally as a commander he had much to do, more now that his people had been left behind by the Fëanoreans. Those who served under him, at least, ignored me. I could lay low and bide my time... or so I thought.

Of Nolofinwë's sons, I had only ever met Arakáno. I knew he had two elder brothers and an elder sister besides ( _like you_ , a small but treacherous part of me said) but I had never laid eyes on them. Nolofinwë himself I had only ever glimpsed from afar.

But there was no mistaking the tall imposing figure that sought me out that day. I had merely been contemplating, in Arakáno's tent, what my best course might be when the flap opened and in stepped the eldest of Nolofinwë's children.

I knew him at once for the strong features of his face, seven parts similar to Arakáno's stern mien. He was armour-clad, but even without arms he would have been formidable; he had noble gold braided into his dark hair and a great shield on his back, a sword at his side, and a fully-wrought armour such as I had never seen before. His eyes were the piercing grey of the Noldor, the fierce flash of the house of Finwë... the blood of those who had slaughtered my family. 

Findekáno he was, and now his terrible eyes were fixed upon me.

✧

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I jinxed it by confidently declaring when I would next post, because New Normal Work immediately picked up and ate up my time, my energy, and my willpower. Lesson learned. This fic will be updated sporadically from here on out.


	7. III: A Crossing part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A confrontation of sorts; meanwhile the Noldor have to make a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Names are in Quenya because they are still in Aman at this time, and it is the language that they would be speaking)

✧

I had never seen a more Noldorin-looking elf in my life.

I immediately rose to stand, my back straight, controlling the shivers I felt. Findekáno merely surveyed me as though he had known he would find me there, had known exactly what he would find. I struggled not to bucked under the pressure of his gaze.

Finally, he said, 'What are you, to be here in my brother's tent?'

I did not respond, still dumbfounded. This son of Nolofinwë had the look of the truly magnificent, of one who did not even think about the difference between himself and a lesser living thing.

It was perhaps similar to the awe I had felt in the presence of the lady Artanís. There was an undeniable superiority in her fëa that heightened her beauty and sharpened my admiration of her.

Yet Artanís was unlike any other; had you been unaware of her lineage, you would not have been able to say for certain if she was Vanyar, Noldor, or Teleri. Her cousin Findekáno appeared to me as though all the Noldor had chosen a single visage. And now, after the Kinslaying, such a presence seemed to me something terrible to behold.

I was, to my shame, frightened.

'Answer me,' Findekáno commanded. His voice seemed to have that power, to command.

'I am a spirit,' I heard myself say. It was a struggle to hold his gaze; his grey eyes were aglint with gold, or fire.

Findekáno came closer. 'Why do you speak in riddles? You are plainly an elf of _hröa_ and _fëa_. Speak!'

'How can she, when you loom over her like that?'

Somehow I had not noticed that Arakáno had returned. He now stood at the entrance of the tent, his shoulders set.

'Rather put the question to me, Brother.'

Arakáno’s voice was calm but there was something tight in his expression as he addressed his brother.

Findekáno, to my great relief, turned away from me to face his younger brother. 'I intended to,' he said, 'but here I already was, and so I thought to ask this one first.'

Arakáno said, 'I do not appreciate an invasion of my household, nor an interrogation of my servants.'

Colour came back to my face, and rushed warmth. How dare he call me his servant! But in the next moment I realised that I had been spared—or perhaps it was that there was no room for me to interject. Neither of them were looking at me now, but at each other, each with their heads held high and proud. 

I stared. I had not noticed it before, but Arakáno seemed to be bathed in the same aura of noble magnificence as his brother.

'I put forth a single question,' Findekáno was saying. 'That can hardly be called an interrogation.'

'And had I arrived a moment later, how many more questions would you have asked?'

The way it was worded was subtle, yet Arakáno’s voice dangerous. He was no less a son of Nolofinwë than his brother. I held my breath.

Then after another moment, to my great surprise, Findekáno conceded. His mien was no less terrible to me, but the imperative tone was gone. 'Your pardon, brother. I bore no intentions to meddle in your household. My object was to find the root of a rumour that reached me, and I thought to quell it as quickly and efficiently as possible; and so I overstepped.'

Arakáno seemed to accept the apology, moving now so that he was closer to me, almost imperceptibly between his brother and me. 'We have many more things to think of than the whispers of gossip, Brother.'

'But we cannot have rumours disrupting the unity of our camps, however baseless they may be,' Findekáno said sternly, his eyes turning back to me. It was not lost on him that his brother was blocking his line of sight to me. 'A single weak link in a chain of mail is small, yet more than enough to compromise the protection of the wearer. A single camp-follower is enough to cast doubt on the great integrity of a commander.'

I became confused, because it was not a word I had heard before. _Camp-follower._ What did he suspect I was?

I was still more perplexed when I felt rather than saw Arakáno's anger. It was not the subtle and complex danger of before, but a real flash of temper. I felt, from where I stood, something roil off of him like wave.

For a moment I even thought that he might strike at his brother, so fiery was the flare that came off him. But Arakáno mastered himself and the moment passed. His tone was flat, and his words were droll once more.

'Have no doubts, Finno. I am still with you to the end.'

'I am glad to hear it,' said Findekáno, putting a hand on his brother's shoulder. If he had noticed Arakáno's anger, I could not tell. It was perhaps the way with Noldorin brothers. Then Findekáno continued, 'It was hard enough to lose our uncle, and our mother. But we children of Nolofinwë must stand ever together.' Slowly his eyes returned to me. 'Then of this one--'

'She stays with me.' Arakáno’s voice was still droll, but firm, broking no argument. ‘And this is a matter between no one else in this camp.'

'Arakáno,' said his brother, patiently, 'surely you realise—her presence will cause doubts.'

Perhaps it was the absurdity of it all that only hit me at that point, but only the Valar know why I opened my mouth then: 'If doubt is your chief concern, then it should start with you.’ There followed a somewhat stunned silence from them both, as though my speaking up had never been accounted for in all of time. 'If you doubt your brother, then you cannot trust him.'

Findekáno raised an eyebrow at me. I stood my ground and held his gaze now, terrible as it was. ‘I do trust him,’ he said. I could hear in his tone the strong implication that, naturally he trusted his brother but did not trust me. I said nothing more. Still he seemed satisfied. He nodded at Arakáno once, and left.

I let out as small as sigh as I could. I did not fool myself into thinking that Arakáno did not notice it, but he did not say anything of it.

‘Your brother is terrible to behold,’ I said bluntly, turning away so I would not have to look at him. My thoughts were swirling like a strong wind in a dense fog, and I spoke without thinking.

‘That was not him at his most terrible,’ said Arakáno. ‘Indeed most would consider him valiant and fair.’

‘He is terrible enough to me.’ I meant that there was something in his _fëa_ that flamed out terribly, but Arakáno seemed to think that I was offended by his suspicion.

'My brother is straightforward and honest,' he said in explanatory tones. 'It is in his nature. It is why he will not abandon his cousins the Fëanoreans.’

I pondered the way Arakáno had phrased his words. _His cousins Fëanoreans_.

‘Are they not your cousins too?’

‘Their father is my father’s brother. And Findekáno is my brother.’ Arakáno shrugged. ‘He promised Maitimo he would follow.'

_Maitimo_ , I dimly recalled, was the eldest son of Fëanáro. He was the most sought after ner-elf in Tirion, for his good looks as his name suggested. 'Then that makes _him_ the camp-follower,' I muttered, pondering Arakáno’s strange indifference.

There was a sharp sound, and I was startled to realise that Arakáno was laughing.

‘I will put it to him when he next questions your presence here,’ he said, still smiling. I was caught by the sight—his grey eyes alight with mirth, and something else. 

This gentle form of his gaze was disturbing to me, not least because in that moment I thought that it became him, that Arakáno was more becoming when he smiled.

I tore my eyes away.

✧

An unspoken, uneasy truce came between us after that. We did not speak much and left each other well alone. When we did speak, Arakáno was even cordial with me, and though I was terse I did not seek conflict with him.

I knew there was no hope of crossing without him, as much as I hated to depend on a Noldor, and a Nolofinwëan besides. It was for this reason that I accepted his care, if it could be called that.

For his part, he did ensure that I was never confronted by anyone at camp again; all of his household were forbidden from acknowledging that I was there. If his siblings, or even his father were aware of me, nobody said a word.

Besides, they had much to think about.

What followed Fëanáro’s betrayal was inevitable. The Noldor had a terrible choice before them.

It was not much of a choice; return to the Valar, begging their forgiveness—or make the crossing themselves. And the only way to cross, now, was through the Grinding Ice.

Still it was a choice. No matter how the Noldor suffered and lamented in the long long spanse of time afterward—I can tell you it was a choice.

They took long councils, they of the Finwëans who were left behind. I do not know what was said in these councils, but I heard enough about the encampment to know where each person’s thoughts bent.

For my own accounting I took stock of who was who, listening to the wind and the low murmurs to better understand my chances.

Of King Finwë’s five children, three had chosen exile. That was Fëanáro, who led the charge, and then Nolofinwë and their sister, Írimë. Fëanáro had taken the ships of my people to cross the sea in pursuit of his vengeance… and burned them rather than send them back in madness.

It did surprise me to learn that there was a daughter of Finwë present: Lady Írimë, third child and royal princess of the Noldor. She was unmarried, unlike her sister, Finwë’s other daughter. I never knew Lady Írimë by face or voice, but I did wonder what it was that spurned her into this madness. Was it a deep loyalty to her brother? Which brother? Or perhaps, she was as me: in search of vengeance for her slain father.

Whatever it was, as Royal Princess she took the place of highest-ranking lady present. This was especially because Nolofinwë’s wife, the lady Anairë, had not joined her husband and children in exile.

Nolofinwë was wifeless, but not childless. All his sons were present: Findekáno, Turukáno, and Arakáno. There was also Írissë, his daughter, and Elenwë the wife of Turukáno, and their child the little Itarillë.

As Arafinwë and Lady Eärwendë had repented and turned back, their children were now orphaned. Thus they had aligned themselves with their uncle Nolofinwë. These were Arafinwë’s sons: Findaráto, Angaráto, and Aikanáro whom I had met at the banquet; of ladies there was also Arafinwë’s only daughter Artanis, whom I had admired, and Angaráto’s wife, Eldalótë. Arafinwë’s only grandchild Artaresto was yet young, and like his cousin Itarillë, was not allowed into the councils.

It was the presence of these children that made me break my silence with Arakáno.

I had observed them from afar, these children who had been brought into this conflict, and was disturbed. ‘Surely their parents and aunts and uncles would not elect to have them suffer the perils.’

‘It is not about whether or not they would suffer,’ said Arakáno. He had a habit of stopping whatever he was doing when he spoke with me, and giving me his full attention.

I did find it strange that Arakáno had no compunctions about divulging knowledge of the councils to me, sometimes even candidly discussing them. I eventually reasoned that he knew I had no one else to tell tale of them to and put no more thought to it.

‘But for their parents at least,’ I said to him. ‘Itarillë is so small. It would hurt the lady Elenwë to see her suffer. I would have thought Turukáno mortally against it.’

‘My brothers do not yet see this as a betrayal.’ If I looked, I could see that there was some bitterness in Arakáno’s smile. ‘They are hurt, but they think that it is likely some command of Fëanáro’s that has led our cousins to it. Findekáno is determined to follow and get the explanation out of Maitimo himself.’ He shrugged. 'Maitimo is his closest friend. Perhaps his only friend. Even when our fathers were at odds, they never lost hope for reconciliation. And Turukáno is like my cousins the Arafinwëans; he wants a kingdom of his own for his wife and child.’

I was so taken aback by this great arrogance that I was speechless, though it must have shown on my face. ‘And… the lady Írissë?’

‘My sister sees the betrayal for what it is,’ Arakáno said. ‘She says we should have listened to our mother. Turukáno is trying to convince her, that the hunting grounds in this new earth must be great and that she would have her fill of it. She will listen to him, because she loves him.’

‘Are all you Nolofinwëans so obsessed with outward fame?’ I exclaimed. ‘How could you—‘

'It is not so,’ Arakáno said, frowning. ‘Turukáno only wants a realm for his wife and child. My sister only wanted a new land to hunt in, with her greatest friend by her side. And Findekáno is furthest from caring about outward fame. He only cares for excellence, for loyalty and camaraderie, and for honour.'

'Honour!’ My fists clenched. ‘Did honour dictate that he should slay my people?'

Always I was the first to speak of it; and always Arakáno answered me calmly.

'You do not understand. We only arrived at Alqualondë when the fighting had already started. All we could see was elf upon elf, kin slaying kin. My brother acted at once to defend his people.'

My fists were clenched and I sprang up. I moved to leave the tent, but Arakáno went before I did. I was left alone.

The sudden emotion, that feeling of being utterly bereft, made me heave.

I bit into my fist to prevent myself from crying. I would not let them see.

✧

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it really November? Will anything soothe my brain?
> 
> Note on the Arafinwëans/Finarfin's children:  
> Like anyone who has a romp in Silmarillion stuff, I had to decide on what everyone's certain characters' parentage would be. I preferred Orodreth to be a grandson rather than a son (therefore a nephew rather than a brother to Galadriel), so I went with that. 
> 
> Also, not in this fic but perhaps someday I will explore what happened to Írimë.


End file.
